Oil Change
by Mold-aund-Mildred
Summary: Klavier needs his motorcycle to get fixed out of the blue one morning. And like at all gas stations, there is always some weirdo asking you if you need help. Contains some curses.


I do not own Ace Attorney, or any of the characters.

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It was a regular Monday morning, where I needed to drive to my work. My hog, or motorcycle as Americans call it, was acting quite strange, and it refused to start. I checked that there was nothing in the exhaust pipe, and thank goodness there wasn't a muffler. Or, anything really. I remember that case that was related to another case. The muffler stopped a doctor's car from moving, so he used a noodle cart. I just hope I don't need to use an alternative, like public transportation… After that thought, I was more persuaded to take my hog to the gas station. (I really don't know much about cars and motorcycles. All I know is how you start and steer my hog. But, hey, even Herr Wright doesn't know how to drive.) So, I pulled down my garage door and locked it, and started to get a move on.

With my helmet on, I tried not to be noticed. It's fine when I'm on the freeway, because I'm not in one place for a long amount of time. Yeah, and I had a feeling I'd be at the gas station for a long time. As soon as I got there, (there's a gas station a few blocks away from my house), I immediately put my hog down and rushed into the shop. I acted from the knowledge of my last time my hog needed fixing, that I probably need oil. I remember I was on the freeway, and my hog started to act funny like now. I was with a friend at the time, so he did the fixing. I didn't really want to watch, because I thought it was so complicated. I took glances, yes, but I can't recall the steps he took to fix it. I bought one jug of oil.

I ran outside, and eased my hog against the wall. I looked at my watch, and saw that I was going to be late if I didn't do this very quickly. I took one of the containers from my hog and opened it. That wasn't oil, I think. It was all black and wet. I placed it back, and took another container out. I remember I was genuinely saying to myself, 'What the hell is this thing?!' A light was reflected off of it, and I also saw a reflection of a scary image. There was some weird guy with no shirt on, and tattoos all over his body. His hair was blocking his eyes and was shoulder-length. I was scared crapless, really. I tried to pretend like I knew what I was doing, and opened the container. He came closer to me, and looked at my hog.

"You need help with that?" I slowly turned my head over and tried my best to not widen my eyes.

"Uhh… Yeah. I don't really know how to fix my ho-… My motorcycle." I stood up, because I was crouching before. Handing the container to him, I looked at one of his tattoos. One said, 'Mad Dog.' I became even more hesitant.

"This isn't for the oil." He motioned to put it back, and I moved over. He took another container out.

"That one?" It seemed pretty lightweight. Well, anything would seem lightweight with him holding it.

"Yeah. Hey!" He threw it in the air a few inches. "This thing has NO oil inside of it. It's completely empty!" What? That's weird. I handed him the jug of oil, and he started to pour it in.

"My name's ChickenBate. I've been sober for 2 years, now." I seriously said, WHAT THE BARREL, in my head. Why is he telling me this?

"My name's Gavin." When I said this, the jug was done.

"You should go get some more oil. About 2 more jugs." I ran into the shop and bought some more. I handed them to him, and he proceeded.

"So, uh, you a lawyer?" Dang, my cover's blown.

"Yeah, you?" He took the next jug.

"I'd rather not say." That was awkward.

"You German?" I'm nothing compared to this freaking giant.

"Yeah." Finally, he finished. He threw out the empty oil jugs.

"Well, thanks, ChickenBate." He smiled. Hmm… This guy seems familiar.

"It's nothing." He walked away. I looked at my hog, and I could swear it looked brand new. I looked to where he was walking and he disappeared.

"If I hurry, I won't be late, then." I got on my hog and resumed my course to my work.

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"Mr. Gavin, your evidence doesn't prove anything!" Apollo pointed in my face.

"Yeah? Well-" I looked at his angry face again. (Pff, I must be hallucinating, because this man's face looks just like… ChickenBate.)

"Mr. Gavin? You have something to say?" The judge looked at me. I suddenly got an idea.

"Yes, your honor. I believe that the defense is being a little CHICKEN. My evidence clearly proves it, and does not need an OIL CHANGE." Apollo looked down. At least I can blab to the little fraulein about his tattoos.

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This actually halfway happened to my mom, and I was so freaked out that I had to write something about it. And of course, I don't know much about motorcycles. Thanks for reading!


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